


how you moved is all it takes

by cloudings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Partying, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudings/pseuds/cloudings
Summary: It’s the end of exams party, and, according to Sirius, Remus has been spending far too much time focusing on stupid things like his grades, his exams, his future, etc, and far too little time fucking him.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	how you moved is all it takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justwankers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwankers/gifts).



> title taken from bowie’s “The Prettiest Star”!

A sense of long-awaited freedom settled over Remus as he took a hearty swig of his beer — he hated the bitter taste of it. He, frankly, always had done, but it was a bustling Friday night in the Gryffindor common room, and Remus knew he’d be _hunted_ if he didn’t attend this; and for good reason. 

He hadn’t meant to have spent so much time away from the marauders lately, but there was only so much studying that Remus could do when Sirius was there, sitting opposite him and staring at _him_ instead of his parchment, rubbing his blasted foot up and down Remus’ leg. No, deciding to revise with Mary, Marlene and Lily had been a _much_ smarter idea, he’d concluded, even if it meant only seeing his other friends at mealtimes. Even if it meant a scowling Sirius refusing to slip into his bed in the recent nights. 

But now, in the dark, bustling atmosphere of the common room, the fire flickering and casting warm shadows upon hazy, unaware faces, Sirius still refused to speak to him. Remus had thought that it would all come to a climax after the exam that they’d had today, that they’d be able to let off some steam together alongside the alcohol that the whole house seemed to be chugging. Alas, apparently not. He’d not have that much of a problem with it — Remus’ common approach to a Sirius temper tantrum was to let him get on with it until it blew over, usually — if it weren’t for that [_fucking shirt._](https://pin.it/6uRWf2w)

Sirius knew what he was doing. The white shirt hung low on him, exposing his chest that was now glistening with sweat from dancing. It was clearly perfect to move in, floaty and baggy around his arms and body, and tight around the wrists. The sheer material, when looked at in the few moments Sirius moved in front of the fire or stood in the light of the window so the moon shone upon him like a spotlight, allowed a keen eye to see through the fabric and feast their eyes upon the freckles upon his back and even his nipples, of which Remus had become very acquainted with and very much a fan of. 

He moved _with_ the shirt, and Remus thought that he must be the only man in the world who would be able to wear the _shirt_ rather than have the shirt wear _him_. He truly was a sight to behold, like a prince; his extravagant upbringing shining through and beaming upon any lucky onlookers. Twice, he took the hands of some sixth year girls that Remus had never taken much notice of, himself, and danced with them to the Bowie songs booming throughout the room — he spun and they spun and Remus felt quite sick watching it. Quite sick indeed. 

“Good to see your face not buried in a book, Moony!” James said to him, his hand loosely holding a glass of firewhisky. Remus eyed it with a raised eyebrow, making a mental note to try and catch it should it begin to plummet. 

“Hopefully it’s worth it,” he replied, a small shrug accompanying his words before he let some more alcohol slide down his throat. Still tasted of piss. He hid his grimace by staring down at the ground and licking his lips. 

“Hope so for Lil, too.” A wistful sigh escaped James now as his eyes found Lily across the room, a great laugh tumbling from her lips, her head hung back. “All that bloody work you two have been doing… You’re lucky I don’t get jealous.”

Remus rolled his eyes at James’ following wink. He knew he was joking. James knew that they didn’t exactly share the same affinities for the fairer sex and therefore had absolutely no reason to be jealous at all. Remus only wished that this reasoning could get through Sirius’ thick skull, as well. 

“You’re too smart to get jealous,” Remus told him. He was right, too. Sirius was a dumbass and with all of his heart, Remus could say that he was, too, too smart to get jealous. He knew, of course, that Sirius would never do anything to hurt them or their relationship, and he knew that Sirius thought the same of him. He was never jealous, only a _little_ possessive, and that he could control. As dramatic as he could be, Sirius had the utmost trust in Remus.

He was just an attention whore. 

That shirt was getting him the attention that he craved. A different sixth year girl, Louise Fairmouth, had wrapped her arms around Sirius’ neck and was swaying with him to the music and spinning in circles, her eyes alight with adoration. Remus watched as one of her hands slid to his neck, and then down, fingernails gently grazing his smooth skin. 

It looked so wrong. Remus’ jaw locked and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the glass he was holding. That skin of Sirius’ was not hers to touch. That face of his was not hers to stare into. Sirius didn’t even suit holding someone shorter than him. It was _wrong._

Sirius’ eyes met his across the room and he narrowed them slightly, eyebrow arching at Remus as if to say; _what? Come and stop me._ Remus watched him lean down and whisper something into Louise’s ear, his eyes still locked on his. She giggled. 

The glass in Remus’ hand shattered. Shards dug into the skin on his hand and fell to the floor in a pile as beer and blood mixed together to create a concoction that stung like _fuck._ James stepped back quickly, his Quidditch instincts coming in clutch, shouting “Shit!” as almost every head in the room shot up to stare at them. 

Remus hissed at the pain and then at the smell of blood that filled his nostrils, and he tried not to react outwardly. He grabbed his wrist and looked carefully at his torn palm, inspecting whether any glass had been left behind, stuck in his flesh and causing him any more scarring than was already littering his body.

Sirius didn’t give it two seconds. He gently pushed Louise aside and shuffled along to the two of them, grabbing Remus’ hand from him and staring at the cuts there. He looked up at him, a grin on his face, and said, “Bloody hell, Moony, what got you so worked up?”

Most eyes had left them by now but Remus knew better than to assume that everybody could look away that easily from Sirius Black. He shrugged, looking from Sirius to James, to Sirius’ chest and then back to his face again. 

“Suppose I was distracted,” he said. James pursed his lips, looking between the two of them with widened eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally, it seemed, he figured out what to say. 

“Pads,” he said to him, “Take Moony up to the dorm and fix his hand up, will you? I’ll clean up down here.” 

Remus peeked down at the blood starting to pool on the floor and, though he felt bad for making his friend clean it up, thought that it was _far_ too near the full moon to be touching blood at the moment. His inhibitions were clearly all over the place as it was. He nodded at James and Sirius’ fingers lingered on his wrist for a moment too long before he dropped his hand and began to make a path for him to walk through. 

“Out of the way!” he called to the Gryffindors blocking the way to the dorms. “Injured Moony coming through!”

“It’s not that bad —”

“It’s awful, he might _die_ if you don’t move.”

They all listened to Sirius because it was _Sirius,_ after all, Remus thought with a smile, and as he followed along up the staircase, hand throbbing in anticipation of the sanctuary of their room, he began to remember just how much he loved him. Dramatics and all.

Their room was dark, only the light of the table lamp next to Remus’ bed shining gold onto the beds, the walls, and Sirius himself. He always looked good when bathed in a glow like this. The warmth complemented his cool complexion like winter sunshine. 

Sirius sat beside him on the bed after digging through his bedside drawer for bandages and plasters, holding a bundle in his hand as Remus felt the dip in the mattress gravitate them closer. 

Sirius said, “Let me see your hand.” 

Remus said, “Let me see you.”

He watched the pause, the realisation, the blush. And then he watched his eyes flicker to the door and back to him. He said, “Your hand, Moony.”

Remus sighed and held it to him, blood still dripping off his fingers and down his wrist, but the flow was slower than it had been. Sirius placed a hand beneath his, lacing their fingers, while the other started to stick plasters here and there. Remus managed to resist flinching whenever Sirius nicked one of the cuts. He had endured far worse pain than this, and it so happened that Remus had a brilliant distraction. 

When Sirius was halfway done, Remus leant forwards and kissed him. 

There were a few glorious moments where Sirius let him and Remus was reminded of everything soft and good in the world. Then he pulled back, disapproving eyebrow raised as he said, “Let me fix up your hand, will you?”

Remus resigned to letting him, watching his face instead of the process. Sirius stuck little plasters over the little cuts one by one, and then began to wrap a bandage over his palm. It was overkill, but Remus didn’t mind. He knew it gave Sirius comfort to help him. _You get beat up enough every month_ , he always said, _without adding more to it at other times, you daft twat._

As Sirius was doing the last few rotations around his hand with the bandage, Remus leant in again. He brushed Sirius’ hair out of the way and pressed his lips against the sheltered neck; soft, slow kisses left his mouth against the skin. He could feel and hear his lover’s breath skip, knew he’d stalled the binding for the moment. He smirked over his pulse. Then he slid his uninjured hand underneath the shirt — _the fucking shirt_ that had been driving him crazy all night. His cold fingers met cold flesh as they delved upwards, smoothing the skin and searching for points that made breath halt again. 

“Moony,” Sirius hummed. “What’s gotten into you, eh?” And, not to Remus’ surprise, he started to try on his hand again. Remus sucked a small bruise on to his neck before he even bothered to think of a response.

Eventually, he answered, “Louise Fairmouth.” His hand inched further upwards. He could feel the groove of each rib now, knew intimately what this path would lead him to. “This fucking shirt.”

“My shirt?” he said, his voice a low rumble. Remus liked being able to feel his voice vibrate when his lips were at his throat. “You like it, do you?”

“You know I like it, you bloody narcissist,” he huffed. Teeth scraped skin. Sirius released a hot breath.. “You know how you look. You love that everybody else can see it too. You knew what you were doing to me, down there. It’s not my fault that I need to study, you know.”

Remus, taking advantage of the lull in bandaging activity, used the hand to grab hold of the growing bulge in Sirius’ trousers. It was one he was familiar with, by now. 

Sirius dropped the bandage. In its place, he had snapped his hand to Remus’ shoulder to hold himself in place. Like he thought Remus would ever stop. He gasped Remus’ name and asked for more contact in the way of rutting upwards, a whine escaping his pink lips. Remus stared at them and decided that he needed to kiss him again, immediately. 

Sirius continued to rock against his hand as he welcomed the kiss enthusiastically, one hand now sliding into Remus’ hair as their lips melded and their tongues slid against one another, sharing heat. The contact was causing small whimpers to seep into Remus’ mouth from his own. A whisper. A promise. 

Faintly, Remus could still hear the music from downstairs, but it seemed so far away despite the fact that it was only down one flight of stairs, and the door was still open. 

Oh, God. The door was still open.

As Remus flicked his thumb over Sirius’ nipple, he took the proceeding gasp as an opportunity to say to him, “Hold on, let me close the door.”

But Sirius said, “Wait.”

He readjusted himself. He swung a leg over Remus’ lap like he was straddling it, up on his knees, and he said, “Leave it open.” 

Remus never having been the one in this relationship to particularly advocate for privacy, nodded at once. The thrill was making his heart pound. Everything was making his heart pound. He allowed his eyes to rake over Sirius’ form above him and he told him, “I want to fuck you in this shirt.”

Sirius moaned at just the words, picking up Remus’ arms himself and placing them around him. Remus could only obey the action, one hand firm on his ass and the other snaking up beneath the white fabric again until Sirius was writhing with the pleasure that always came when his nipples were played with. As he kissed him again, Sirius reached between the both of them, undoing Remus’ trousers before his own. 

He breathed against his lips, “You can. Not now,” and Remus felt an unintended growl of possessiveness threaten to leave his lips. Sirius continued, “Later. Soon. As soon as. You _owe_ me after these last few dry, depressing weeks, you swot. But until then…” He brought their crotches together, and held both of their erections in his one hand. “Placate me.”

Remus couldn’t help how his eyes fluttered shut at the contact, head tipping forward against Sirius’ collarbone, exposed by the shirt. He jerked his hips into Sirius’ grasp, feeling the difference between his dick against the skin of his hand and the skin of his own, both of them wet enough at this point to aid in easy movement. He was lucky to have Sirius as a lover in general; even luckier that he had such a fluid wrist movement. 

He forced himself to keep his eyes open as Sirius jerked them both. He pulled back from Sirius' skin and relished in favourite pastime by staring at him instead. Sirius stared back, and though Remus was fixated on his gaze, he could see in his peripheral the way that his mouth was opening and closing, jaw twitching with moan after moan that he couldn’t hold back, and that, thankfully, the music downstairs was able to cover up. 

It only got better as Remus started to move again. Each reaction that he could evoke out of Sirius, no matter how small, was one that Remus relished and aimed for. He thought of how beautiful Sirius’ eyes were, even when they became half-lidded like this as Remus pinched his nipple and then rolled it with his thumb. 

With his other hand, he began to guide him at the small of his back. He aided him with his hip movements, establishing a rhythm that he saw Sirius nod at, and began to jerk his hips up as well. Together, their hips rolled, languid and making the bed creak beneath them. The air was hot and heavy, made more so by the ambient warm light and the countless bodies dancing downstairs. Remus could feel their breath mingling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Remus told him, the words coming out in low whisper as he felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen. “Oh, fuck, Sirius…”

Sirius’ grip around their erections held steady, giving them both something consistent to fuck into, but Remus could tell that they were both nearing their breaking point, regardless. He knew Sirius too well, by now, to not realise when he was going to cum. His other hand was tightening at the nape of Remus’ hair, his eyes rolling, his eyebrows turning down, his hips twitching faster than normal. 

“Remus,” he hummed, and leant forward again. Remus, expecting a kiss, leant in too, but stopped as he heard him speak, rambling, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna— Remus, Remus, I’m —”

“Yeah,” Remus encouraged, because he could feel himself a hair's width away too, and because he wanted to watch Sirius finish as he did. “Come on, Padfoot, I know — Come on, love.”

And _then_ he kissed him, unable to hold back anymore, and knowing there was no reason to hold back at all. He and Sirius shared the last of the frantic breathing and staggered thrusts between them, between lips, as Remus felt the point of ecstasy that might’ve made him believe in Heaven. If this was Heaven, he needed to convert to Catholicism. Quickly. 

The slowing of their hip thrusts was gradual until they ceased altogether, and they just sat, limp-limbed and grinning at what had just happened, even though it must have been the hundredth time. Remus wasn’t sure about Sirius, but he knew that the first thing that he thought of when he woke up everyday was how lucky he must be to share this with Sirius, in a world and life otherwise so damned and twisted. Sirius sometimes felt like the only thing that should be real in the world. Him. That was all he needed. 

“I love you,” Remus whispered, after they’d succeeded in nothing but basking in the afterglow for a few minutes. 

“I love you too,” came the sweet reply, the one he always yearned to hear. “I missed you. Exams being over better mean that you’re as insatiably horny as this, all the time.”

“You love it,” he teased. 

Sirius grinned, ruffling Remus’ hair with the hand that was still nestled in it. He said, “I do, actually. It might come in useful later. After all…” He pushed himself up into a stand, and looked down at his shirt. “I recall you saying that you want to fuck me in this. You’d better not let me down. We have many hours to make up for.” 

Remus was too busy thinking about the words and the inevitability of _later_ — the shirt bunched up at his chest, his hair spread out over the pale pillowcases, his legs spread wide apart — to reply, only just managing to tuck himself back inside of his trousers and zip up. Sirius was still grinning as he cast the memorised cleaning spells over the both of them. 

He bent down and picked up the roll of bandage just as Remus noticed James approaching, taking no liberty with the stride of his steps. When he entered the room, Sirius was finishing the wrapping that he had, though James had absolutely no idea about it, previously abandoned. 

“You alright, Moony?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a drunken haze about him. “Lily told me to come and check you two hadn’t killed each other.”

The two of them shared a look. Then they shared a smile. 

James was none the wiser. He just looked at them with his own jolly gaze, murmuring, “Lily looks fantastic tonight, you know…” 

Familiar opening notes reached their ears. Remus could see Sirius react to them, too. 

“We’d better get back downstairs, then,” Remus said, when he finally found his voice again. James nodded, obviously eager to get back to his girlfriend, and said a quick, “See you boys down there!” before taking the steps down perhaps even quicker than he’d come up. 

Remus pushed himself off the bed, examining his injured hand as he did so. He said, “Bloody good job, Black. Thank you.”

Sirius yanked him into another kiss. Then he said, “I’ll stop dancing with Louise. But I’m keeping the shirt.”

Remus couldn’t help the smile across his face extend even more. “Good,” he hummed. “Then let’s go. They’re playing your song.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and held his hand all the way down the stairs until everything forced him to let go. But it was okay. Partly because he knew that they had each other, and that was good enough for him, because he didn’t need the whole world to know about their relationship to be happy. 

Mostly because he knew that Sirius wouldn’t be able to sit through Bowie’s _The Prettiest Star_ without blushing again. And that thought was worth everything, including being told that he was the cheesiest tosser to walk the earth. 

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from bowie’s “The Prettiest Star”! 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! feel free to leave a kudos and some feedback in the comments if u would like, it’s v much appreciated !!!


End file.
